Thursday

identity is the cause of warts

i have a toad. its name is, "when the conservative parent of a new autism client comes to your art opening and walks right up to a video of ric royer's nutsack." WWJD? i opted for the manual spinning-of-the-parent-away-from-the-TV-screen-and-toward-something-a-bit-less-provocative/giant-underpants-suspended-from-the-ceiling move. verdict: unknown; possibly unsuccessful.

--

in the dream, i have driven home to my parents' house, and no one is home. i am filled with anxiety because i don't want to be there, especially alone. it's fall--i can tell by the wind and the thinness of the sky; the skin of it. it is so windy. the wind blows expansive fields of orangish wheat around. it might be winter, if wheat is hearty. i know where landmarks should be but instead there are just rolling fields of wheat. i turn slightly and see a black and white farm dog stading about halfway up the hill. i know that he is male and i feel empathy for his lost-ness. i realize as he's looking at me, surrounded by blowing wheat (the wheat is taller than he is), that he is trying to communicate with me. he is very calm and appears to know me. i am filled with a feeling of relief; no fear; immense calm joy. i know even in the dream that i have never experienced such a sensation. i know to try to remember everything. in dreaming, it's almost as if what never happened will never happen.